I was 21 and had just started seeing this new, wonderful guy. We were trying to keep things casual, but I could tell I liked him a lot. Less than a month after we started seeing each other, I found out I was pregnant. For three days, I fretted over whether or not to tell him; I knew I wanted to end the pregnancy, but I wasn’t sure if an abortion would totally destroy our little fledgling love affair. I liked this guy, but I barely knew him, and I worried that if I told him, he’d run away. Finally, I decided that being honest was worth the risk of losing him. He was initially pretty freaked out, but he understood that I was even more freaked out, and he was supportive.

Even though I was very early in my pregnancy, I opted for a surgical abortion, because I knew I wanted it to be over and done with at the doctor’s office — not to have to worry about monitoring the process at home, as with a medical abortion.
When it came to getting an abortion, I was incredibly, atypically fortunate: my employer health insurance covered the cost, save a manageable $40 co-pay; I lived in a city with many accessible abortion providers; I was able to take a day off work for my procedure. Best of all, I had great friends to support me, bring me food, watch crappy movies with me afterwards, etc.

The day was tough, and I was freaked out and nervous beforehand. The boy came with me and stayed in the waiting room at my request. It was definitely awkward, and neither of us really knew what to say to one another. Afterwards, I worried that the stress of the abortion was too much too soon for us, and that we’d break up. But I knew I’d done the right thing for me by getting an abortion, and the right thing for us by telling him about it. And hey, almost three years later we’re living together, still childless, and very happy. The abortion doesn’t define our relationship — to be honest, I don’t even think about it all that much — but the process of getting through it together was something that brought us closer.